Archive of Our Own ^beta

       A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the scent of salt and damp cement as Koko stood quietly on the dock. The soft sound of water lapping against the seawall reached her ears. Moonlight shimmered on the surface of the water, casting a pale glow over everything nearby. Though the night was still young, Koko felt utterly drained. One issue has been resolved, but the more pressing one remained- motionless, yet looming- and she could only hope it wasn’t close by at this very moment.

    Despite that thought, Koko couldn’t help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over her as she spotted the familiar figure waiting further down the dock. Thank the spirits- it wasn’t some stiff, uniformed stranger sent to awkwardly sit with them and pretend they weren't silently judging her entire unwashed appearance. No, it was Kya. Glorious, chaotic, potentially dangerous Kya. They’d only exchanged words once before back at the Blubbering Seal, but that had been enough for Koko to recognize the important things: a kind heart, a sharp tongue, and a gleam of barely-restrained menace in her eye. Exactly the kind of woman Koko could see herself teaming up with to emotionally torment Jin.

     She quickened her pace, boots hammering against the dock with the urgency of someone who spotted salvation with a side of sarcasm. The wooden planks groaned beneath her like they, too, were bracing for impact.

      Kya was already grinning at her- an expression so comforting, Koko swore she could’ve curled up in it like a warm blanket. Her blue eyes glistened in the moonlight like two polished sapphires, her white hair appeared bolder with the soft glow, her smile was sweet and embracing as the whites of her teeth reflected the light. For a brief second, Koko thought she looked like a snow fairy in her water tribe garments.

       Her smile was nothing like Lin's bold and private ones, gaurded yet open, vulnerable yet expressive. Lin was complicated and Koko already misses her.

    "I figured you'd appreciate a familiar face to welcome you to the island," Kya said in that annoyingly soft voice that sounded like a babbling brook.

    “You have no idea how relieved I am,” Koko replied with an exhausted laugh.

    But just as she was about to launch into some kind of reunion monologue, Kya’s expression twisted ever so slightly, her eyes scanning Koko like she was a half-burnt painting. The same look Lin had earlier- equal parts concern, curiosity, and loss.

“You look…” Kya began gently.

“Terrible? Good. I was hoping it showed,” 

    Kya snorted. “I wouldn’t say terrible. Just… like someone who fought an oil spirit and lost?”

     Jin let out a laugh behind her, and Koko realized she had unintentionally body-blocked him from the conversation.

    “Oh, right!” she said, stepping aside. “This is Jin. We've known each other since we were tiny disasters.”

    Kya's eyes twinkled mischievously. “Lin and Jin? Are you starting a rhyming name collection?”

    “It’s suspicious, I know,” Jin chimed in. “Place your bets- her next friend’s going to be named Meilin.”

    Kya grinned wider. “Funny you mention that. There is an acolyte named Meilin on the island.”

    Koko let out a delighted bark of laughter and clapped Kya on the shoulder. “Well, guess I’ve got a new target. Go ahead and warn her for me.”

     The fun was immediately stunted by the sharp, pointed sound of two very unamused guards clearing their throats behind them. The type of impatient that suggested they had suffered through one too many trips with weirdos and were this close to hopping back in the car just to avoid further conversation and abandon them.

     Koko sighed dramatically, shaking her head at the two rigid goons. Even Lin seemed looser than those two. Her moment of peace had officially expired despite wishing it could've lasted just a bit longer. She was reveling in the peaceful atmosphere, it was light and playful, making the knot in her stomach loosen just a bit. But she can only ignore her issues for so long. She marched up to the boat, hoisted herself aboard with all the grace of a sleep-deprived warrior, then held out her hand to help the others board.

     Jin climbed up with a grumble and slight tumble, always exuding the grace of a baby doe, and Kya followed, her smirk ever present as she tightly grasped her hand into her own. Koko, feeling generous and slightly mischievous, even extended a hand to the guards. They stared at it like she’d offered them a live eel, and instead climbed aboard on their own, possibly worried about the assumptions of what exactly she and the chief had done with their hands prior to their arrival. The implications made her snicker, and she didn’t bother hiding it. Little did they know, her hands were squeaky clean compared to their chief's.

     The boat engine coughed to life, roaring and rumbling, and they began their slow, steady journey toward the island. Koko turned to watch the city grow smaller behind them. The buildings shrank, but the lights only grew, merging into a shimmering blanket of gold and white. A swirling mass of civilization that blurred until the only thing she could still recognize was the Pro-Bending arena- shining defiantly like it refused to be forgotten. And she may never will. The soft and tender moments that took place in that building, however brief, will always have a place in her heart.

   She let out another sigh, this one a bit more melancholy. Then she turned- and promptly jumped out of her skin.

     Everyone was staring at her. Jin, Kya, the guards. Like she was the main act in some weird traveling show titled “Woman Has Thoughts.” and after the last couple of days, she was getting really tired of being watched.

     “Can I help you?” she asked, voice dripping with suspicion.

    The guards shrugged with the indifference of people who were only here to get paid and supervise. They turned away briefly, allowing her what little privacy they could offer.

     Kya leaned in with a wicked grin, voice low and teasing. “Missing Lin already?”

    “Oh yeah,” Jin added with a smirk. “Look at her. She’s all solemn.”

    “Missing her like a noble wife watching her soldier march off to war,” Kya quipped.

    “Missing her like they were forbidden lovers separated by fate!” Jin added in.

    "Missing her like a princess stuck in a tower, waiting for the arrival of her prince!"

“Missing her like-”

    “-Okay,” Koko cut them off, holding up a hand and what's left of her sanity. “I’ve decided this was a terrible idea.”

“We agree."

    All three heads whipped toward the guards, who were now hunched on a bench with the energy of men who were done. Just utterly done.

Koko blinked. Then smiled.

    Maybe this island wouldn't be so bad after all with Kya there.

      Then it dawned on her. A very daunting thought that made her stomach twist.

"Oh no!"

    The four others immediately turned to face her again, startled. Jin practically jumped out of his seat, nearly tipping the boat in his haste as he stumbled toward her.

    “What is it?” he asked urgently, already bracing for disaster, "Are we being followed?"

    Koko let out a long, exasperated sigh. “No, I left my fire flakes in the car.”

Silence followed. Heavy, confused silence.

    Then Kya began to laugh- quiet at first, a few stifled chuckles- but it quickly escalated into full-bodied laughter. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, shoulders shaking as she doubled over from the effort.

     “You’re being followed by some mysterious stalker,” she said between gasps, “and the first thing on your mind is... your snack?”

     Koko crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. “Yes, Kya. Because, it’s the small comforts that keep me from completely losing my mind. And at this rate, I believe everyone on this boat should be more concerned about me turning into a goon, because I am very, very hungry.”

     Jin looked horrified. Color drained from his face as if he suddenly feared the boat now contained not one potential threat- but two.

     The guards, who until that moment had been slouching in a posture of mild disinterest, suddenly remembered their purpose, their duty. At the mention of the stalker, they both straightened in unison and began scanning the open water with a new sense of urgency. One adjusted his collar. The other reached for a set of binoculars. Clearly, the conversation had jogged their memories as to why they were stuck with three adult children.

      “I truly don’t understand how you two can laugh about this,” Jin muttered, not even trying to hide his discomfort.

    Kya wiped at her eyes, her grin still lingering. “Because, Jin, sometimes laughter is the only sensible response we have left.”

     Koko silently agreed, she doesn't exactly have much left now. She was displaced and Lin was stuck at the station for the foreseeable future. All she had was Jin, it was just like when they were children when they only had each other for comfort. She felt a bit guilty for making light of the situation, after all, Jin only has her too and now she was being targeted, threatened. His only companion in life could be taken away at any given moment. But they've been through so much in their life as is that this felt like just another thing to mark off her bucket list of traumatic events. 

      The rest of the journey passed in a heavy silence. The air was cool and steady, drifting off the water and brushing the loose strands of hair that framed Koko’s face. The steady rhythm of the waves lapping against the boat was oddly calming, joined only by the occasional call of a distant horn from some unseen ship in the harbor.

     Koko’s gaze wandered to the island ahead. It was still a little ways off, its shape just beginning to take form beyond the haze. A part of her felt the quiet ache of dislocation- of being somewhere she wasn’t sure she belonged.

     But then she thought of Lin. This place, she knew, was like a second home to her. That thought, strange as it was, brought Koko some small measure of comfort. If this island was enough to ground someone like Lin, then perhaps it could offer something to her, too.

     She sighed, quieter this time. The boat carried them forward, and for now, that was enough. 

       No one spoke as they reached the dock, the boat gliding smoothly as it lined itself beside it. Kya climbed out of the boat first and offered a hand to help both Koko and Jin, while the two guards remained behind. Four White Lotus sentries waited for them in silence- just as quiet and unsettling as the ones still adrift in the boat, fading into the distance. Without a word, they began the slow walk toward the main tower of the island. Apparently, they’d be staying with the airbending family instead of the acolytes for better surveillance.

     Insects buzzed somewhere in the distance, and now and then, faint murmurs floated through the still air as others moved about the grounds. They passed a few other White Lotus members and acolytes. The guards acknowledged Kya with curt nods but ignored Koko and Jin, while the acolytes looked at them with quiet curiosity and said nothing. Koko didn’t like the feel of this place. It was too still, too calm- nothing like the streets she’d grown up on, and certainly nothing like Republic City, despite being just across the bay. She hoped they wouldn’t be stuck here too long- or at the very least, that the people might eventually warm up enough to play a simple game or two for their entertainment.

    The island was more alive than Koko had anticipated. Clusters of people flowed through the open temple corridors like rivers of color- robes in shades of orange, yellow, and red drifted past in soft waves, occasionally punctuated by flickers of white and blue fabric that slipped in and out of view. It reminded her of a commune, a place where people moved with quiet purpose and shared a common rhythm.

     She felt a small pang of guilt for the way her eyes lingered on them, her curiosity bordering on wariness. These weren’t just temple caretakers- they were the stewards of an entire culture, people who had chosen to dedicate their lives to keeping the Air Nation’s traditions alive, even without air bending abilities of their own.

    Koko realized she didn’t understand much about them or their way of life, and while that unfamiliarity made her cautious, it also stirred a quiet curiosity in her. Maybe, just maybe, being here could teach her something. If she couldn’t enjoy herself- if she couldn't relax- then at the very least, she could treat this like a cultural exchange. A chance to see how others found meaning, even in lives so different from her own. Maybe it would help with her idleness, help her find more meaning for herself.

     They stopped before a pair of side-by-side doors. Kya motioned to them- they were to be their quarters, each with a private bath. She explained that clean robes were laid out on the beds and that the bathrooms had been stocked with toiletries so they could shower before dinner arrived. Despite the cold reception they’d received for the patrons of the island, Koko felt a flicker of warmth and comfort at the thought of washing off the day.

      Jin hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave her side. And Koko wouldn’t pretend she wanted to be alone- but they parted for now, each retreating to their rooms to rinse away the remnants of what they'd endured.

     Koko undressed slowly, peeling sweat-drenched clothes from her skin and releasing her greasy hair from its binds. She felt filthy, worn down even. In just three days, she’d let herself go- and now she could feel it, deep in her bones and weighing in her chest.

     A dull ache throbbed in her belly, spreading down to her pelvis and legs. It pulsed low and steady, embedded deep in her muscles. A gift left by Lin, an impression, a reminder. And Koko hoped, with a faint heat in her gut, that she’d still be feeling it tomorrow- and the days after that. She wanted to feel it with every shift of her legs, every time she walked, or stood, she wanted it more than anything. 

    As the warm water cascaded down her skin, Koko stood still beneath the stream, eyes closed, head tilted back, trying to find solace in the heat. But there was no peace to be found, not truly. In the darkness behind her eyelids, there was only Lin- her face, softened with emotion, eyes shining with relief and affection at the sight of her. That memory alone was enough to undo her. The warmth of the shower clung to her body, echoing the sensation of Lin’s embrace- fierce, grounding, almost desperate. Even the sharp, cold press of metal from Lin’s armor had felt like something tender, familiar, real.

She ached for her. Spirits, how she missed her.

      Her absence was already suffocating. The thought of so many more days stretched ahead like an endless, barren road. She wasn’t sure how she would make it through. Maybe phone calls would help, hearing her voice crackle through the distance like a lifeline. Or maybe they would only make the longing worse, a cruel reminder of what she couldn't have- what had been stripped from her. From both of them.

      With a quiet sigh, she shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel with mechanical motions. She didn’t want to linger in the bathroom any longer than necessary. She feared that if she stayed, the grief might catch up to her- and once it did, she might not be able to stop herself from falling apart. The weight of displacement settled heavily on her chest: displaced from her home, from her routine, from the one person who made her feel anchored in the world. All because of some twisted individual who had exploited their vulnerability, their love, for his own gain.

     After drying herself off, she reached for the Air Nation robes and slipped them on with quiet reverence. The fabric, smooth and lightweight, hugged her still-damp skin, clinging gently to every curve. Rich hues of amber, crimson, and gold wound around her form like tendrils of fire, flowing downward in gentle waves. The long hem brushed against her ankles, trailing softly along the floor with each step, lending her an almost ethereal presence. As she caught a glimpse of her reflection, the layered colors reminded her of a candle's flame-flickering, fragile, and warm. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if, like that delicate flame, she too could be extinguished with a single breath- a thought both haunting and oddly comforting. Her salt-and-pepper hair, still damp, hung down her back as she exited the bathroom, wet blots forming at the ends as they rested against the fabric. 

     The scent of food drifted into her nose before she spotted it. Kya sat perched on the edge of her bed, a tray of food beside her, posture stiff and composed in a way that immediately made Koko’s brow furrow. Something about her stillness, the subtle tension in her shoulders- it was the kind of stillness born of anticipation. Of anxiety.

      Kya stood up rather suddenly, her hands clasping together as if to contain her nerves. Her voice, though calm, held a kind of urgency. “I know the past few days have been... overwhelming. And I imagine privacy will be in short supply while you're here, so I wanted to take this chance to speak with you alone. To... to be open with you. If we're going to be friends, I want us to be honest ones.”

    Koko’s heart beat a little faster. Something in Kya’s tone made her uneasy, made her stomach tighten in quiet dread. What could she possibly need to say in private?

      Kya hesitated, then finally spoke, her voice dipping lower. “It’s about Lin. After she and Tenzin broke up... she and I had an understanding. An arrangement.”

    Koko blinked, her head tilting slightly. “what kind of arrangement?”

     Kya’s gaze faltered for a moment before she clarified, almost apologetically, “A sexual arrangement.”

Ah.

There it was.

     Koko moved slowly toward the bed, her expression unreadable as she sat down on the far side of the tray, putting space between them. The food on the tray was neatly arranged- an array of brightly colored vegetables, thoughtfully prepared, with a slab of seasoned tofu resting atop the heap. A small bowl of what looked like pudding sat to the side, its surface smooth and untouched. She looked at it, willing herself to feel something- annoyance, jealousy, betrayal- but there was only stillness inside her. A strange, empty acceptance. As if some part of her had always known. She remembered the fleeting glances, the subtle way Lin shifted when Kya sat down at their table, and the softness in Kya’s eyes when she looked at Lin. There had been something there- perhaps not love, but something deep. Something once intimate.

Finally, she asked, her voice quiet, “For how long?”

     Kya’s back was turned to her, shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow. “Almost ten years.”

     Koko let out a soft breath. That was not a brief fling. That was a history. A history built ontop of an already existing history, a whole historical archive if you would.

      She studied the lines of Kya’s posture, the subtle quiver in her stillness. Kya was waiting for judgment. For anger. For rejection. But Koko didn’t feel any of those things. What she felt was a need to understand, to reach for the truth beneath the surface.

“Was it hard for you?” she asked gently.

    Kya turned, startled by the question. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if confused by Koko’s tone.

    “Yes,” she admitted after a beat. Her voice trembled slightly.

Koko’s gaze softened. “You loved her.”

     A pained smile spread across Kya’s lips. “More than she could ever love me.”

    There was a silence between them, thick but not heavy. Honest.

      Kya finally crossed back to the bed, lowering herself onto the other side of the tray. She didn’t look at Koko as she spoke, voice quieter now, almost reverent. “I still love her. It’s different now, and it doesn’t hurt the same way it used to. But back then, every time we parted ways, everytime I went back to the South Pole, every time we had to pretend there was nothing between us... it felt like I left a piece of myself behind.”

     Koko listened, her heart open, her chest tight. The past was heavy, but it wasn’t a threat- it was simply a part of Lin, and she had long accepted that Lin’s story didn’t begin with her.

And that was okay.

    “I didn’t leave anything behind,” Koko said, her voice light. “She stole it and probably hid it in her uniform somewhere- preferably in her pants.”

     At that, Kya let out a surprised laugh- sharp at first, then softening into something genuine. Her shoulders relaxed, and her whole frame seemed to ease, as if the weight she’d been carrying had shifted slightly. The laughter rippled through her body until it faded into a warm, lingering smile. When the moment passed, she turned toward Koko, eyes locking onto hers with a look that was searching, maybe even hopeful. Koko wasn’t sure what Kya was looking for- understanding, absolution, camaraderie- but whatever it was, it lingered in the silence between them.

     “I’m glad she has you, Koko,” Kya said finally, her voice sincere.

     A grin tugged at Koko’s lips, and she replied with a smirk, “Well, she certainly had me earlier.”

     Kya choked on a laugh, snorting in surprise before shaking her head. “Spirits, I see you and Bumi are going to get along swimmingly. He makes the same jokes you do!”

     Their laughter overlapped- warm and unguarded, like two people sharing the same room in their memories of Lin. When it settled, Koko reached forward and finally lifted the tray from the bed, placing it across her lap. The smell of the food drifted up- savory tofu, fresh vegetables, and the sweet aroma of the pudding- but it barely registered. Kya didn’t make a move to leave, and Koko didn’t ask her to. They were both taking full advantage of the rare privacy, the only one she was likely to have while she stayed on the island.

     After a few moments, Koko’s voice returned, quieter now. “Did… did Tenzin ever apologize? For how things ended with Lin?”

     Kya’s expression shifted. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her brows furrowed slightly as she considered it. “I think he did,” she said slowly. “In his own way. But I don’t think Lin ever really listened. Or maybe she couldn’t. I know he's tried contacting her over the years and tried talking to her when the force and the counselors were in the same vicinity.”

     “So he just gave up?” Koko asked, incredulous. “That was it?”

     “With Lin…” Kya sighed, her eyes growing distant. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

Koko tilted her head slightly. “Even you?”

     At that, a flicker of something sharper passed through Kya’s eyes- hurt, maybe, or a spark of indignation. Her tone held a quiet edge. “I gave up trying to love her the way I wanted to. But I never stopped showing up for her. There’s a difference.”

     Koko nodded, slowly. The tofu she put into her mouth tasted bland, texture without substance. It wasn’t the food’s fault. Her appetite had dulled the moment they began speaking of Lin from the past. One that she wished Lin would speak more of. Right now, on this bed, she wished it was Lin who told her of her affair with Kya. She wanted to know what she was thinking those ten years, how she felt about Kya, if she knew she loved her, how she felt about Tenzin, Pema, their children, etc.

     “I’m not giving up,” she said, with quiet resolve. “Not on her. Not over some coward hiding in the shadows. Everyone else can, but not me.”

     Kya's face lit up with approval, her grin wide and proud like a proud older sister. “That’s what I like to hear. Lin may not admit it, but she needs someone by her side, someone who has the same sense of unwavering loyalty like her.”

     “I don’t know if it’s her who needs me… or if it’s really me who needs her,” Koko murmured. “I still don’t fully get it, Kya. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Sure, there were times I wanted more from the flings I've had, but never- never- have I felt so completely undone by someone. Lin makes me want to come apart, like a spool of red thread, every knot and twist in me loosening with her touch. I’ve always had to keep up a front around people… but she won’t let me. It's as if she's pulling on that thread, unraveling more and more until there's nothing left of me she hasn't seen."

     Koko’s lips trembled. She could feel the knot inside her slowly coming undone now, could almost sense invisible hands reaching into her chest, gently pulling it apart- revealing a heart, battered but carefully held together. It pulsed with a fierce, aching love for the chief… one stronger than the armor she wore every day.

     "I don't- it's not like we're even officially together. Saying 'girlfriends' feels... juvenile somehow. Right now, we're partners, maybe just lovers figuring things out. We're still learning each other, still ironing out the tension. But I want this- I want her- more than I’ve wanted anything in the last twenty years."

 Kya nearly choked. “Twenty years?”

     “It’s a long story,” Koko sighed. “One that’ll make it painfully clear just how clueless I’ve been all this time. You should ask Jin about it some time. He likes to regail to those who are willing to listen about how much of a meat head I am.”

     Kya reached across the tray, placing her hand gently over her trembling fingers, nearly dropping the chopsticks, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “If there’s one thing I know about Lin, it’s that she doesn’t like to waste her time. If she’s putting in the effort, Koko, then I’d say there’s a good chance she feels the same. That’s already more than I ever got.”

     Koko wanted more than anything to believe her. But from a young age, she'd learned not to put her faith in hopes or assumptions- only in certainty. And right now, she didn’t have that. Lin hadn’t said a word about how she felt. Not yet. And maybe that was fine- for now. There were more urgent things to deal with. After all, it’s hard to bare your heart when there’s a stalker looming in the background.

     They didn’t need to say anything more after that, the past for her was dead and buried. Nothing would change if they kept poking and prodding through the old memories. The space between them had shifted- less like rivals navigating old territory, and more like two people with different pieces of the same story. There was history in the room. But there was also a kind of peace. 

     “So… how are you feeling?” Kya asked after a long silence, her voice quiet, careful.

      Koko paused mid-bite, her brows pulling together in mild confusion. “About your arrangement?” she asked, chewing slowly. “I don’t really feel anything.”

      Kya gave her a small, patient smile. “No, Koko. I meant about your situation. Your aura has been off since I saw you at the docks.”

     The food in Koko’s mouth suddenly felt like sand, the grit sticking between her teeth and coating her tongue. She wanted to choke on it, anything to avoid talking about this any further than she already had with Lin ealrier that day. She stilled, her jaw locked in place. For a heartbeat, her mind went blank- then the emotions surged all at once.

     Frustration. That was the loudest one. Frustrated that she isn't able to do anything. Frustrated that fear had kept her shut in for two days. Frustrated that Lin had, once again, taken the weight of other people's burdens onto her shoulders. She was too far away from her now and the rest of civilization. The helpless distance between them felt like a thousand knives being driven into her sternum. How dramatic.

    Paranoia had ruled her thoughts for the last three days, yes- but under it, buried deep and hot, was anger. Not loud and reckless, but simmering- an ember glowing beneath the ashes. And in the center of it all, nestled like a rotten seed, was fear. A cold, quiet fear that this was only the beginning. It had a shape of a small child with its teeth bared and its fists clenched so tight they shook from the force of it. It wanted to hold everyone it loved close, so close that they merged to become one big heap of limbs and life.

      The intensity of it made her want to leap into the sea and swim across the bay until she found whoever was behind this- and tear it all down. If someone had dragged her into this just to use her as a pawn against Lin, then fine. She’d find a way to flip the whole damn board.

     Still… she couldn’t say any of that. Not to Kya. Not with the risk of Lin finding out.

“Exhausted,” she said instead, her voice low.

     Kya nodded gently, like she believed her. “Anyone would feel that way, being where you are now.”

    Koko drew her knees up slightly and pulled the empty tray closer. “They… they can’t get to me here, right?”

     Kya’s expression softened even more. “They’d have to cross the water to reach you,” she said with a quiet certainty. “And there are guards stationed both on the shoreline and in the tower. You’re safe.”

Koko hesitated. “What if they’re a waterbender?”

     Kya tilted her head thoughtfully. “Then wouldn’t they have used their bending the first time they came after you?”

     “Not if this is all some twisted game. Ending it quickly wouldn’t be much fun. Or maybe… maybe they don’t have any bending.”

      Kya nodded slowly. “If they did, I think the worst-case scenario would be if they were an earthbender.”

Koko frowned, looking up. “Why earth?”

     “They can use the ground itself against you,” Kya said quietly, her voice taking on a somber edge. “The earth you’re standing on becomes a weapon. They can pull it out from beneath your feet- swallow you whole without a trace. Trap you in stone, immobilize you in seconds.”

     She glanced at Koko, her expression serious. “Have you ever seen Lin train?”

     Koko shook her head. “No. We never really had the chance. The triads and her job have been consuming all of her time lately.”

     Kya exhaled slowly, almost reverently. “It’s… something else entirely. Watching an earthbender like Lin in motion- it’s not just bending. It’s like watching the mountain itself move. Earthbenders don’t just manipulate their element, Koko. They are it. It’s in their stance, their breath, their instincts. They feel the vibrations through the ground- every footstep, every shift in weight. The earth speaks to them, and they listen like it’s an extension of their body. Because to them, it is. And the terrifying part?”

    Koko didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest.

     "It's everywhere,” Kya said, her voice barely above a whisper. “As long as there’s stone, dirt, or even dust… earthbenders are never far. You never know who’s connected to the ground beneath your feet until it’s too late.”

       A visible shiver ran down Koko’s spine. “Okay, well,” she said stiffly, trying to hold herself together, “this is absolutely not helping me feel better. At all. In fact, it’s doing the exact opposite, and I would very much like to stop talking about this now.”

     She sat up straighter and held out her empty tray. “I think I’m ready for bed.”

     She didn’t want more company tonight- not even well-meaning company like Kya’s. But she also didn’t want to be left alone with the thoughts that were now clawing at the edges of her mind. She felt heavy with emotion, her head buzzing with fear and frustration, her body aching for rest. Maybe sleep would bring her peace. Or at least stillness.

     She had hoped that getting away from the city would ease her mind-that the distance would give her space to breathe. But so far, it hadn’t worked.

     Kya gave a soft sigh, part exasperated, part understanding. But she smiled gently as she reached out and took the tray from Koko’s hands.

    “Alright,” she said, rising to her feet. “Get some rest, Koko. You need it.”

“Goodnight,” Koko murmured.

     “Goodnight,” Kya echoed, before slipping out the door and pulling it closed behind her.

And finally, Koko was alone.

     Alone with too much to feel. Too much to fear. And still, all she wanted was sleep.

    The lantern flickered low, bathing the room in a warm, orange glow. Shadows stretched outward like lingering ghosts, reaching far beyond the light’s edge. The quiet was broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet and the soft buzz of insects. Wrapped tightly beneath the covers, she pulled them closer, seeking comfort in their weight. The windows were sealed shut, the door locked and further barricaded by a dresser. Though the island brought a measure of safety, it remained unfamiliar- an unknown that left her just as unsettled as danger itself.

      She lay stiffly on the mattress, her eyes tracing the delicate mural on the ceiling above- an image of flying bison drifting across painted skies, with a few winged lemurs scattered in between. It was clear that guests were well cared for here. From what little she knew of the Air Nation, its monks were known for their kindness and acceptance of all people, regardless of background. She admired that. She wished she could embody it. But her past had shaped her into someone wary, always looking over her shoulder- like the paranoid old women found in cautionary tales.

      Everything in the room felt almost too perfect. The robes were too soft, the sheets too heavy, the pillows too full, the light too warm. The stillness of it all clashed violently with the storm raging in her mind. Even Kya’s earlier reassurances couldn’t calm her. Part of her feared she hadn’t gotten far enough- yet another part resisted the thought of being any farther from what had become her new home. Or from Lin. The island was large, and though it was well-guarded, she couldn’t shake the fear that someone could slip in unnoticed- especially, thanks to Kya, if they were an Earthbender.

     Earthbenders were strong, grounded- literally and figuratively. If there was solid ground beneath them, they could use it in a dozen ways: dig through it, wear it, hurl it like a weapon. And if they were a metalbender too? That was even more terrifying. She found herself hoping that whoever might be hunting her- or Lin- was either a non-bender or perhaps a firebender. At least then, they’d be on equal footing. At this point, she’d even prefer a chi blocker. 

   Even during her service in the army, she'd come across an incredibly diverse range of fighters- some wielding the elements with natural ease, others relying purely on physical skill and strategy. She had seen it all: waterbenders flowing like rivers in combat, earthbenders rooted like mountains, and non-benders whose discipline and precision made them just as formidable. But the matchup between fire and rock? That was an entirely different challenge- one of the most difficult terrains to navigate, both literally and metaphorically.

     Fire, for all its heat and aggression, has its limits. It can't break rock, can't shift or mold it. Most types of stone- like granite, basalt, or limestone- are completely noncombustible, impervious to flames. In fact, under the right conditions, they can be used to smother fire rather than feed it. A single wave of sand or a burst of loose dirt hurled in her direction could be enough to snuff out her flame. Sure, water can do the same, but at least fire has a chance to respond- boiling, evaporating, becoming steam if burned hot enough. With rock, there's no such flexibility. It remains solid, unmoved, and unyielding. Fire lashes out; rock endures. And in that kind of battle, endurance often wins.

      Koko shuddered at the thought of being buried, but despite her morbid thoughts, she had hoped that once the triad trouble settled, she and Lin could finally train together. More than that, she just simply wanted to see Lin in her element. Despite her deep-seated fear of the very ground Lin commanded, there was a quiet longing- to witness her strength, her control, her connection to the earth she bent so effortlessly.

      Her eyelids grew heavy, the image of Lin hovering just beyond the edge of consciousness. She could already see her shifting form- hurling rock after rock, sheets of metal slicing through the air toward their mark. The metal gleamed in the light, its gray surface smooth and reflective like a mirror, in stark contrast to the jagged, opaque stones. She watched the way Lin's muscles flexed, her stance wide and grounded, every movement sharp and deliberate. The force in her motions was undeniable. She could almost feel the wind from an oncoming boulder, her imaginary self twisting to evade it, the massive rock skimming past by mere inches. And with that imagined near-miss, her awareness slipped away, swallowed by darkness.

     She was sinking- slowly, steadily- into the darkness. It wasn’t like before, when the shadows cradled her in a strange sort of weightless drift, where she floated to an unknown destination. No, this time there was gravity. This time the dark felt heavier, thicker, more alive than before. It clung to her skin with an oily, suffocating familiarity, like a film. She wasn’t floating- she was being pulled, dragged downward into a depth that had no bottom, no light, no end. She had no idea where she was going, but a hollow ache began to bloom in her stomach, spreading like cold fire.

     Her body tingled as if it were caught between numbness and sensation, like waking up too slowly after a long sleep. The darkness wrapped around her limbs, moved over her like water, but colder, more invasive. It whispered along her skin without a voice, and she could feel it slinking into the spaces between thoughts. For a while, there was only the descent- silent, endless. She thought, maybe this was it. Maybe she would simply fall forever into this abyss and sleep without dreams.

       But then, far off in the distance, something broke the silence.

     It was faint at first- distant, muffled- but unmistakable. A sound like cracking. Like something soft and fragile slamming against something hard and unyielding. A sickening, rhythmic thud. Bone against concrete. Fist against flesh. Skin against skin. Then came the sobbing- choked, uneven, heartbreakingly young. Koko twisted her body, her movement sluggish in the weightless dark, and looked toward the source of the noise.

     There, in the deep distance of the black void, was a scene she recognized instantly- one burned into her memory, buried under years of guilt. A small figure stood over another on the ground. A little girl, fists clenched, was relentlessly punching and kicking the one below. Over and over. The strikes were wild, fueled by rage and desperation, but they never stopped- not even as tears poured down the attacker’s face. The cries echoed across the void, sharp and raw, filled with something Koko could only describe as heartbreak twisted into violence.

      She knew this memory, she mentioned it to Lin once before back when they went on their first date. She had carried the weight of it for decades. It was the one moment in her life where she had acted in complete contradiction to everything she believed in- her morals, her self-discipline, her sense of right and wrong. And she had done it for one reason: Jin. To save him. To make sure he didn’t suffer more than he already had. She vividly remembered thinking that if it were Jin lying there dying instead of the boy in her arms, it would be him coughing up blood, struggling for breath through his phlegm and tears as the sickness burrowed deeper into him. That thought was what kept her going- what gave her the strength to see the task through to the end, even if it meant taking a life for another.

     The only good thing she could say about this particular memory is that she never used her flames on the poor kid, but beating them into a pulp wasn't great either. She could still remember the sting of her knuckles as they made contact with his boney face, the way his eye lids swelled up like two big plums, his lip bleeding and how a few of his teeth were spat onto the ground. The kid probably didn't know why Koko did it and, to be honest, the guy who gave her the job never really explained it either, he only said he had a dept to pay and he wasn't going to pay an adult to do it. It was cheaper labor to make another kid do it and less likely for the law to get involved if it were a quarrel between two orphaned children.

    Of course, she had never told him. Jin had been feverish, delirious, barely conscious. He never saw what happened and never questioned why she had medicine. And Koko had never uttered a word. She kept it buried, just like so many other truths she had hidden in the name of protecting him. Shielding him was second nature. Even if it meant staining her own soul.

    The image flickered- briefly, like a faulty lightbulb struggling to stay lit. For a split second, the scene wavered, unstable, and when it came back into focus, something had changed. The figure lying on the ground was no longer the nameless boy from her memory. Instead, it was her- herself as she was now, older, with streaks of gray threading through her hair and the hard lines of time etched into her face.

    At first, the sight was almost absurd-surreal, even. There was something darkly comical about watching a small, furious child pummel a grown woman. But that uneasy amusement evaporated quickly. The blows kept coming, and with each one, her adult face began to swell and bruise. Blood trickled from her lip, her eyes darkened and became bloodshot, her features distorted under the relentless fists of the child.

     Whatever humor she might have found in the moment vanished entirely, replaced by a sickening sense of recognition- and dread.

     Now, watching it replay in the void, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than a memory. It felt like a sign. A message. A reckoning. For what, she didn’t know. But even as she watched, the image of the two beings began to drift away- fading, shrinking into the distance as she continued to sink deeper into the cold black with the sound of something being repeatedly hit ringing in her ears.

    Koko’s eyes snapped open at the sound of rapid, insistent knocking on her door. It sounded so similar to the noise in her dream, skin hitting a hard surface, and it was just as relentless- and irritating. With a groan, she rolled onto her side, forced herself into a sitting position, and then dragged her still-heavy body off the bed. She staggered toward the door, her movements groggy and uncoordinated, glamouring herself into a somewhat presentable state as she went.

     Her path was immediately blocked by the barricade she had set up the night before: a large dresser shoved firmly against the door. She stared at it, blinking in mild disbelief, then scowled in irritation. Why did I think this was a good idea? Past-Koko had clearly been a paranoid genius. Present-Koko was just tired and regretting all her life choices.

     With an exasperated huff, she shuffled around the obstacle and began pushing the dresser aside. It groaned in protest, and so did she. By the time she managed to clear the way and wrench the door open- cutting off the maddening knocking- she was short of breath and in no mood for conversation.

    Standing in the doorway was a small, bald man clad in Air Nation robes not unlike her own. He looked up at her with calm patience.

    “You’re being summoned to join master Tenzin’s family for breakfast,” he said evenly.

    She didn’t register a single word. Her eyes, still sticky with sleep, had locked onto the man’s perfectly polished bald head. It was smooth, round, and so shiny it practically gleamed in the morning light. For a brief and wholly inappropriate moment, all she could think about was reaching out and patting it- like a ceremonial egg.

    “Do you think I should go bald?” she murmured, half to herself. “Might complete the monk aesthetic.”

“...I’m sorry, miss?”

    “I’ll be there for breakfast,” she said quickly, blinking the thought away and stepping back into the room before she said something even weirder.

    When she stepped out again, in a different set of robes, she saw Jin chatting with the small man. His robes were designed differently but consisted of the same colors as hers: orange, red, and yellow. It looked like a thick comforter hanging off his petite frame, the folds too deep and the fabric looked too heavy for him. He didn't look bad by any means, but she assumed that their hosts thought he'd be an average sized man. He turned towards her with a weird expression on his face.

"Did you ask this man if you should go bald?"

     "Anything I say this early in the morning can't be held against me." 

    He shrugged and turned just in time to follow the old man down the hallway toward the family dining room, his steps relaxed and unhurried. She noticed he didn’t seem even the slightest bit nervous about having breakfast with the famous airbending family- but Koko was.

    She began to sweat as she shuffled along behind the two men. Jin had nothing to worry about- he wasn’t dating anyone in the family. But she was and not just any of them, she was dating the so called stone cold chief. This well-known group of people were considered Lin’s extended family, people she’d grown up with. To make things even more uncomfortable, one of them- actually, two- were Lin’s exes, and not just brief flings, but long-term relationships of some kind.

     Despite never caring much about winning people over before, she genuinely wanted them to like her. She had hoped Lin would be by her side for this, but given the situation, she had to face it alone. There was no doubt they’d be sizing her up like a piece of meat, silently wondering how someone like her had managed to catch the chief’s attention. And there was no chance she could defuse that scrutiny with a well-timed breast joke- not here, not with them and the kids. And if Kya was right about getting along with Bumi, that only raised the odds that Tenzin might not be so welcoming- especially if the rumors about his past with siblings were true.

   She sighed as they drew near, the door to the family dining hall just a few steps ahead, looming in her view. It wasn’t just that this was Lin’s family- it was that it was a family at all.

     Neither she nor Jin had ever really known what that felt like. They were close, like siblings, but the idea of seeing real parents, real siblings- people connected by more than duty or circumstance- was entirely foreign. Koko had never met anyone else's family before, and neither had Jin. During her years of service, she never formed friendships deep enough for that, and Jin kept his relationships strictly professional at work.

     The little bald man pushed open the heavy doors and announced their arrival. The warm aroma of steaming fruit and nut porridge drifted out to greet them, mingling with the scent of toasted bread spread with some kind of paste. Laughter and light chatter from children filled the space.

     Inside, a large table was set with an assortment of plates and cups. On one side sat the three airbending children- two girls locked in a playful argument while the older boy slyly snatched a piece of their bread when they weren't looking. The youngest child sat contentedly on the lap of a woman who, despite her graying hair, appeared to be the youngest adult in the room- this had to be Pema. Beside her sat their host, Tenzin, who offered them a calm, welcoming smile.

     Across from them, only Kya was seated- no sign of Bumi, which Koko found herself quietly thankful for. The empty side of the table, clearly prepared for guests, held two bowls of porridge and slices of toast- set just for them.

     Jin and Koko approached the low dining table with noticeable stiffness, doing their best to kneel gracefully on the floor. With deliberate, practiced movements, they adjusted the folds of their robes, smoothing the fabric as they settled into place. As the bald man exited the room, a sudden quiet fell over the gathering. Eight pairs of eyes turned toward them, their gazes heavy with curiosity and silent scrutiny.

     The contrast between the two of them was striking- almost humorous. Koko, tall and broad-shouldered, radiated quiet strength, while Jin, with his slighter frame and delicate features, looked almost fragile by comparison. They made an odd pair, physically mismatched and seemingly unrelated, like two pieces from entirely different puzzles. And yet, here they were, seated together at the table per Lin's request- a place they had somehow earned despite appearances. It was no wonder the others were staring, wondering how these two strangers had managed to land in such an odd position.

      Koko cleared her throat, her fingers reaching up to tuck the loose strands of hair that framed her face neatly behind her ears. Beside her, Jin shifted uncomfortably, tugging up the sleeves of his robe to keep them from trailing into his bowl. The movements were small, but they gave away their nervousness. Still, in spite of everything- the lingering awkwardness, the strange setting- they didn’t look half bad. Koko, now rested, had lost some of the exhaustion that had clung to her like a shadow the day before. The dark circles beneath her eyes had lightened, and her freshly washed hair no longer clung in oily strands. Jin, too, looked more composed- his anxiety tempered since yesterday. Together, they now resembled two competent individuals rather than two strays swept in by chance.

      Koko lifted her spoon, scooping up a bit of the warm porridge and bringing it to her lips when a voice suddenly broke the silence.

     “Hey,” someone said bluntly. “How’d you get those scars on your face?”

     The words hung in the air for a moment. The older boy at the table leaned forward, squinting as he studied Koko’s mouth, his expression scrunched with curiosity and something just short of concern. Jin went tense beside her.

    Pema practically leapt out of her seat. “Meelo! What have we said about interrogating people like that?”

      Meelo, ever the picture of innocent rebellion, blinked up at her with wide eyes. “But they look so cool,” he said, pointing at her. “Like Aunt Lin’s! Matching scars! If I had one too, we could be a team!”

     Tenzin sighed heavily, placing down his teacup as he wet his lips in preparation for a lecture, “Meelo,” he said in that firm dad-voice, “I assure you, the only people who want scars are the ones who have never earned one. Lin and Koko didn’t choose theirs- and they certainly don’t consider them fashion statements.”

       Meelo slumped dramatically in his seat, arms crossed, lower lip stuck out as though someone had just denied him a puppy and a flame-thrower in the same breath. The two girls next to him leaned in with the same curiosity, their eyes zeroed in on Koko’s face like she was an exhibit at the zoo.

    Koko slurrped on the porridge, mechanical sips, the pieces of fruit and nuts on top now indistinguishable from regret. She thought she'd be nervous around them because they were a family, but it turns out she's nervous because they were a weird family. The air around her felt tight, as if someone had cranked the awkward-meter up to maximum discomfort. Pema and Tenzin were both giving her the kind of apologetic glances usually reserved for guests who’d stepped in something unpleasant at the door.

     She briefly entertained the idea of requesting all her meals be served privately in her room from now on. Maybe with a napkin folded into a sad little crane and a small vase with a flower to really make it feel like a vacation at a hotel. 

      Then Kya cleared her throat with the kind of performative drama that could only mean trouble. She was grinning- too much. That mischievous gleam in her eyes made Koko’s stomach clench. This was not going to be better.

     “Tenzin,” Kya began, “as you know, this is Koko and Jin. Did I ever mention that I’ve already met Koko?”

Tenzin blinked. “Oh? You’re already acquainted?”

      “Oh yes,” Kya chirped, clearly enjoying herself way too much. “In fact, I bumped into her and Lin during a charming little lunch date awhile back.”

      Koko had thought the previous silence at the table was awkward. Turns out it was just the warm-up act for the main event, which was now crawling onto the stage to do a jig.

      The air practically froze, a coolness that was seeping through her robes and into her skin. Every eye slowly turned to Koko. She could feel the shift in attention, like being lit up by a spotlight in a crowded audience. 

      Tenzin blinked again, this time with both concern and scientific curiosity, like he was re-evaluating her entire molecular structure. His already prominent eyebrows somehow climbed further up his forehead.

     “You’re… Lin’s lover?” he asked, voice tipping ever-so-slightly into disbelief. 

     Oh spirits, they didn't know, Koko straightened her back, adjusted her shoulders like she was about to go through a formal inspection, and replied, “Yes.”

     Kya, not one to let things lie peacefully in their graves, reached under the table like a magician revealing her grand finale. “Actually,” she said, nearly bursting with glee, “they’re already famous. Front page, in fact.”

     With a flourish, she slapped the morning paper onto the table. And there it was.

      A photo- grainy, poorly framed, and taken from what looked like behind a pole- but unmistakably them. Lin and Koko, mid-kiss, caught in the eternal freeze-frame of tabloid shame. Lin’s hand was gripping Koko’s shoulder like a vice, her expression unreadable. Koko’s eyes were wide with surprise, as if the kiss had landed completely unannounced because it had. And, just to make it worse, she was still holding a half-eaten bag of fire flakes in the photo, cradled in a vise grip that crushed the bag like a stress ball.

      Koko stared down at the picture in mute horror. Twenty-four hours. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and they were already front page material.

    This was not good, she hadn’t known what Lin was thinking when she planted a wet one on her infront of her officers and bystanders, but what she does know now is that she laid claim on her to show whoever was watching out there that she wasn't backing down without a fight. That the both of them weren't going to be snuffed out so easily.

“Lovely photo,” Kya added.

      Koko did not respond. She simply looked longingly at her porridge again, considering drowning herself in it.

     Jin casually pointed at the newspaper with the end of his spoon, still dripping with porridge. “Hey, check it out. That little blur in the backseat? That’s me. Right there. In the car.”

     As if that was the cue for a circus act, both girls immediately launched themselves across the table like zebra mongoose, arms outstretched, limbs flailing, completely disregarding table manners, gravity, or the bowl of fruit that went flying in the process. The younger one actually stepped on a teacup.

      The younger of the two let out an ear-splitting squeal that could probably rupture glass. “I see them! I see them! There they are! That’s so romantic!”

      The older one, by contrast, gazed at the photo like it was a masterpiece in an art gallery. Her expression had gone dreamy, almost reverent, as though this candid shot of two very surprised adults kissing mid-farewell was the height of romantic imagery. 

     Tenzin, meanwhile, looked like the universe had just revealed it was flat and upside-down. His eyes were locked onto the photo, his mouth hanging open so wide he was in danger of inhaling a passing gnat. He was surprised, baffled, gobsmacked, all of it.

     “Well,” Pema said brightly, clapping her hands together in a burst of enthusiasm, “I for one think this is wonderful! How lovely for Lin! You absolutely must tell us how the two of you met.”

      “Oh yes,” Kya added with a grin so sharp it could’ve sliced a melon. “Do tell. I’m dying to hear it.”

      Tenzin finally tore his eyes from the newspaper, blinking like he’d just awoken from a very strange dream. “Yes,” he said slowly, with the air of a man preparing himself for impact. “I think... I would also like to know.”

     Jin frowned and leaned forward just enough to cut off Koko's line of sight. “I really don’t think you do.”

      Koko, for her part, seriously considered whether it would be less painful to fake a sudden fainting spell, or perhaps sprint out the front door and vanish into the nearby hills. The story of how she met Lin was not something one shared at a breakfast table surrounded by innocent children, a man whose eyebrows had their own sense of authority, and a grinning sister with the emotional subtlety of a pie in the face.

       Because the truth was, their origin story was neither heartwarming nor whimsical. It was hot, heady, emotionally confusing, rocky, awkward, fast yet not, and, above all, a work in progress. She was aware it would sound... questionable.

     She would honestly rather eat an entire bag of salt in one sitting than try to narrate that mess in front of the airbender family breakfast club.

     Koko drew in a quiet breath, steadying herself. Her fingers curled around the rim of her bowl as though anchoring her to the table. The silence had grown too heavy to ignore, and the weight of everyone’s attention pressed against her chest like a stone. She cleared her throat, the sound soft but resolute, and finally found her voice.

     “Well,” she began slowly, her eyes flickering to the children before quickly returning to the table, “we met at a bar and things got a little risqué. That’s… about all I can say without getting into details that really aren’t appropriate with your children present. You know, involving a couch and the floor. Some manhandling, armor flying, such and such.”

There was a brief pause.

     Pema let out a small, almost surprised giggle, the kind that broke tension more than it added to it. Beside her, Kya laughed more openly, shaking her head, while Jin visibly winced and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he wished the moment would pass quicker.

    But Tenzin didn’t laugh, didn’t grimace, didn’t speak.

     He was watching her, his expression unreadable but not unkind. There was no judgment in his gaze- only quiet observation.

    Jin set his empty bowl gently on the low table, letting out a small sigh. “Well, moving on,” he said with a polite smile, “we just wanted to thank you for letting us stay here. It really means a lot. We’ll do our best not to be a burden... any more so than we already have.” 

     He glanced at the mess the kids made in their excitement. The shattered remains of a tea cup and the basket of fruit on the ground that now had remnants of squashed fruit in and around it looked like a crime scene.

     Tenzin seemed to come back to himself at those words, straightening his spine and clearing his throat as if shaking off a fog. “Yes, of course,” he said, folding his hands in front of him. “I was informed of your situation, Koko. I must admit, a few things make more sense now, knowing your connection to Lin.”

He paused briefly, his expression softening.

      “I understand the past few days have likely been overwhelming- confusing, even. Please know that you're safe here on the island, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure you feel that way. This is a place of peace and healing, and I hope it offers you some of both.”

     He glanced toward the window, where the breeze stirred the curtains.

      “Lin said she’d keep us updated as the investigation progresses. I trust she’ll do everything in her power to get to the bottom of this.”

    An investigation. Koko wasn’t sure why she hadn’t expected that. Of course sending a clump of hair to the Chief would lead to one. She slumped over her bowl, a slow, creeping unease returning like the steady drip of a leaky faucet. Someone was out there, and she was stuck here. It wasn't fair and it was already killing her.

    "Yes, so do I. Thank you for informing me and for your hospitality," she said stiffly.

     Breakfast carried on. She was mildly relieved that the airbending family seemed to give her some space afterward. Despite her efforts not to come across as paranoid or on edge, it was clear she had failed- and they, perhaps out of pity, had chosen not to press. She spent the rest of the meal slurping lukewarm porridge and picking at the jam-covered toast while everyone else chatted about things she couldn’t care less about. Jin dropped in now and then, but like her, he remained mostly silent.

     She observed them, trying to understand their dynamic. As always, Kya seemed to enjoy bothering her brother, with the children occasionally joining in to egg her on. It was oddly entertaining, if a bit strange. Pema came off as calm and grounded like Tenzin, mostly focused on feeding their youngest while chiming in here and there. And Tenzin- Tenzin was quiet too, unless Kya was pestering him. He seemed thoughtful, withdrawn, perhaps reflecting on the new information his longtime friend had conveniently withheld when asking for refuge.

    She couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Sadness? Disappointment? Could he even get angry? Could any airbending monk?

   Koko felt a subtle wave of relief wash over her when breakfast finally came to an end. The awkward tension at the table had been suffocating, and she was grateful to be released from it, even if just physically. As the group dispersed, she stepped out into the hallway with Jin, trailing just behind him. Two White Lotus guards stood silently by the door, waiting to escort them wherever they chose to go on the island. Their presence was a quiet but undeniable reminder: her freedom was now conditional, supervised. This- this moment- might very well be the last time she would ever know true privacy.

      Jin was already engaging the guards in hushed conversation. He leaned forward slightly, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, his voice too low for her to catch, but she could guess. Probably asking if they could get a tour of the island or if there were any “fun games” they could play. He seemed determined to make the best of the situation, or at least pretend that he was.

     Koko hung back, half-listening but mostly lost in thought. Her mind drifted to Lin, wondering if she'd read the paper that morning. She must have- Lin was Chief of Police. Even if it was tabloid garbage or vague community whispers, it was still her job to stay informed. Of course she’d seen it. The very idea made Koko’s stomach twist even though it was she that kissed her and started it.

Suddenly, a hand landed lightly on her shoulder.

     Her body jerked around, her breath caught in her chest, but when her eyes settled on the figure behind her, she relaxed slightly- though not completely. The hand bore a familiar mark: a blue arrow inked into skin. That meant it was Tenzin.

     He stood calmly, unbothered by her reaction, as if he'd anticipated it. She turned fully to face him and was mildly surprised to discover they were about the same height. Somehow, she’d always imagined him taller- maybe it was the robes, the air of authority, or just the way he carried himself.

     Tenzin offered her a small, courteous smile. “If you don’t mind, may I speak with you privately?”

     Koko glanced over at Jin, who had paused mid-conversation to watch them. His brows lifted slightly in curiosity. She gave a slight shrug, and he shrugged back in that easygoing way of his. This might be her only opportunity to make a request about eating alone- she wasn’t about to waste it.

    She turned back to Tenzin and gave him a small nod. “Alright.”

    They stepped back into the now-empty dining room. The warmth and clatter of breakfast had disappeared, leaving behind a cold quiet that settled into the space between them like dust. Tenzin walked a few steps further in before turning back to her, his expression neutral but contemplative.

     “Pardon me,” he began formally, “but I wanted to speak with you privately about something… personal.”

    Koko resisted the urge to groan aloud. Oh, boy. “What is it?”

     He hesitated, fingers rising to stroke his beard in that distracted way people did when their thoughts were tangled. His gaze avoided hers.

    “I’m heading to the station shortly. Korra will be joining me. We’re meeting with Lin and the rest of the force to discuss recent events. And… well… I know Lin. She won’t entertain any personal questions- not from me, anyway. So I was hoping you might be willing to share a little insight.”

     Koko blinked, then let out a short, sharp scoff. That was rich. The nerve of him, assuming she’d just open up like that. On the first day no less, he could at least try to get her drunk first or something. She wasn't a water spout. “It depends on what you’re asking,” she said, folding her arms. “I might be staying under your roof, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to spill my guts to you.”

     “No, no, of course not,” he said quickly, holding up a hand as if to wave away the assumption before returning to fidgeting with his beard. “I didn’t mean to imply that. I just… I’d like to know how Lin is doing. She rarely calls. She hardly ever visits. I worry about her, but she keeps me at a distance, even after everything that's happened the last few years..”

     His voice softened near the end, and for the first time, Koko saw something that didn’t quite match the composed airbender image- something human, and tired, and maybe a little hurt. Still, she wasn't sure how to respond, or if she even should. 

      She unconsciously started to mimick his movements, scratching her chin as she regarded him with a critical eye. If he’d spared even half a thought about the chaos of the last few years, he’d know exactly why Lin was buried up to her eyeballs in work. First, the city barely bounced back from Amon and the Equalists, and then Unalaq showed up, waved his spirits and darkness around, and kicked off a civil war. No sooner had the spirit vines stopped choking buildings then- bam- airbenders everywhere, floating around as clueless as the actual spirits. And just when things started to seem slightly less insane- boom- Red Lotus. And then, because why not crank it to eleven, BOOM, Kuvira rolled in with her Earth Empire, guns-a-blazing. Literally.

     And now, of course, the triads were throwing riots over the presidential election- which, by itself, would’ve been enough to send the city’s fragile peace into a tailspin. And wouldn't you know it, someone had picked this exact moment to take advantage of the fact that the cops were stretched thin and the politicians were neck-deep in “reform” or whatever buzzword they were using this week (reading the tabloids about them made her brain hurt). At this point, it was starting to look like Republic City was allergic to peace. As was Lin.

     And, well, she won't deny a part of it had to do with the fact Lin is most likely avoiding him, or at least, his home. But she won't tell him that.

    “Well,” Koko began, her tone dry, “given everything that’s going on right now, I’d say she’s not doing so great either.”

    She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though a flicker of something sharper passed through her eyes. “You already know how the triads have been escalating things, not to mention the stress from the recent election. All of it has been driving her up the wall. I mean, it’s Lin- she acts like she can handle it, but even she’s not bulletproof.”

     Tenzin nodded slowly, brows furrowed in quiet concern. “Yes… I imagined as much. But I wasn’t asking about her work- I know how it is for her.”

     He glanced at her, his voice softening with genuine curiosity. “I mean- disregarding her position, her responsibilities- how is she really? How are you both doing?”

    Then, almost cautiously, as though tiptoeing into unfamiliar territory, he added, “You two seem… like quite the pair.”

     Koko stiffened. Her shoulders tensed slightly, and her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     Tenzin quickly raised his hands in surrender, his expression apologetic. “Oh- no offense meant, truly. I don’t know you well, Koko. That’s exactly why I’m asking. I guess I’m just… surprised. Curious how someone like you managed to catch Lin’s attention, or how anyone could for that matter.”

      For a brief moment, silence fell between them. Koko tilted her head, sizing him up. Then she smirked.

   “Well,” she said, gesturing to her torso, “big breasts.”

     Tenzin’s mouth dropped open. His eyes widened in utter disbelief as his face began to color, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “I… I… That certainly can’t be the only reason!”

     Koko burst out laughing, a low, amused chuckle that echoed in the empty dining room. “Of course not, genius. But let’s be real- it doesn’t hurt.” She tossed him a wink, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

     Tenzin flushed deeper, gaze shooting up toward the ceiling as if it might rescue him. His lips parted like he wanted to respond, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.

     Koko, amused by his flustered state, relented a little. “Alright, alright. You want a real answer?”

He looked at her, still red but nodding.

     She let out a breath, sobering a little. “The truth? We’re still figuring it out. Me and Lin. We’re both stubborn, both carrying way too much baggage (thanks for that, by the way), and neither of us is exactly skilled in… emotional clarity.” She gave a small shrug. “But we’re trying. And I think that counts for something.”

      Tenzin studied her, his expression unreadable. “I see,” he said after a moment. “I suppose I asked because… well, she’s my friend. I care about her.”

    Koko’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “She wasn’t always your friend.”

That landed like a dropped stone.

     The air between them grew still and heavy. Tenzin didn’t respond, and Koko didn’t press. But her words lingered, undeniable.

      She knew she was stepping into dangerous territory- this wasn’t her wound to poke at. But still, Lin had never once mentioned Tenzin apologizing. Never said he tried to make amends or even acknowledged the damage. Kya hadn’t brought it up either, despite being close with both of them. And for reasons Koko couldn’t quite explain- maybe loyalty, maybe anger- she felt the need to say it out loud. To confront the silence that Lin had been forced to live with.

Even if she didn’t know the full story.

Even if it wasn’t really hers to tell.

"No... but she was my friend first."

     The two stood facing each other in tense silence- both deeply connected to Lin, though in very different ways. The only common ground between them, it seemed, was their concern for her well-being. Tenzin might have been a lifelong friend (and lover at one point), but Koko was now Lin's partner- her lover and self-appointed protector, even if she didn’t need protecting.

       Quick as a spark, Koko jabbed a finger into Tenzin’s chest, boldly challenging the airbending master.

      “I don’t know everything that happened between you two,” she said, “and maybe it’s not my place to stir things up. But if you really were her friend first, you would’ve given her a real apology, even if she tried to shove rocks down your throat or crush you like a bug. You would have never given up on her as a friend- as family. And you would’ve properly thanked her for saving your family during the Equalist attack. Yeah, I read about it. Even from the Fire Nation, I followed Republic City news. I’m sick of seeing her look so heartbroken when she talks about her family. Do something that actually makes her smile for once, Friend.”

    Koko took a step back, her eyes blazing, then abruptly turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining hall, leaving Tenzin frozen in stunned silence. The echo of her footsteps bounced off the walls, sharp and final, as if punctuating the fury she didn’t bother to hide.

     Outside, she didn’t pause. Her whole body trembled with tightly coiled rage- a slow, burning fire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long. Every breath she drew only seemed to stoke it further. She didn’t care who saw her now. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides as she marched down the corridor, eyes locked straight ahead.

     The moment she spotted Jin and the guards stationed at the end of the hallway, she strode straight toward them without hesitation. Her jaw was tight, her shoulders squared, and her voice came out in a low, furious growl as she spoke through gritted teeth.

     “Show me the training yard,” she snapped, baring her teeth in something halfway between a grimace and a snarl.

     She didn’t understand why he made her so furious. Was it jealousy? Envy? Was it the dream? Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar and intense. She needed to let it out- to burn hotter than any fire she’d ever scraped together in her childhood just to stay warm. The heat had to escape, all of it: the fear, the paranoia, the sadness, the sexual frustration, and the aching, overwhelming affection. It all churned inside her like steam in a pressure cooker, desperate for release.

      The guards exchanged glances, their eyes wide as if they were staring down a wild animal. Jin just sighed, clearly annoyed that someone had already pushed her buttons on her first day on the island. The guards moved ahead, descending a steep staircase carved into the hillside below the main building.

    Jin stayed close behind her, hoping his presence might offer some anchor to her emotional storm.

     She’d spent her adolescence on the streets, but even she knew better than to mouth off to someone offering shelter- especially when that offer came without demand or obligation like the army. And if there was one thing Koko had learned from couch surfing through barns and sheds and bathtubs (yes, bathtubs), it was that you didn’t bite the hand that fed you. Some street kids took what they wanted out of necessity or habit. But Koko and Jin? They operated differently. Mainly because Jin never had the strength so they were forced to find other ways to live.

     That’s not to say Koko had never stolen or foraged around- she had, plenty- but more often than not, she worked for what they needed. She learned early that politeness and effort got you further than growling, clawing, and snapping. It might've looked pathetic or manipulative, sure- but it worked. Sometimes she’d play the “my brother is very sick” card to win sympathy and favors. And while she meant it when she said she earned what they had, that didn’t always mean it looked that way.

     Still, in the end, the outcome was hers to own. It took everything she had to hold her tongue when people treated her like a servant. It took real effort to twist her words into something softer, less confrontational. And it drained her not to lash out when she saw how heartless people could be- how easily they discarded kids like her, using them as nothing more than cogs in a machine. She called that effort- the quiet, exhausting kind. Living like that made it easier to endure the harshness of serving in the army because it wasn't any different, except, of course, they actually paid her for it.

     But this situation was different. Losing this roof wouldn’t send her back to the streets- just strip away another layer of safety while the investigation dragged on. She didn’t have to pretend to be a grateful, broken child here. She didn't have to be an emotionless machine that did whatever told to. She could just be herself. And who she really was? A hot-headed, restless woman who rarely held anything back, who never thought twice before speaking, even if it landed them in hot water. Even if staying silent might have protected her better, she couldn’t do it. Lin had kept everything bottled up for so long that maybe she’d forgotten how to say it at all. And if she wouldn’t say a word, then Koko sure would- and it’d land her in hot water, the kind that came with cold metal, hard rock, and nothing soft to break her fall. A big bowl of painful soup.

     The trail they followed had gradually narrowed into what barely passed for a path- just a worn ribbon of dirt winding through trees that seemed too tall and too old to care who passed beneath them. The occasional buzz of an insect or rustle of a armadillo squirrel in the underbrush was the only sign of life. It looked like the sort of trail that time had mostly forgotten, and by the look of things, so had most people. They hadn’t seen another soul the entire way down, the batch of foliage growing quieter with every step, until finally the slope evened out and opened into a clearing.

     The space was wide, flat, and tucked away just far enough from the tower to feel hidden- but not abandoned. At its center, a shallow dip in the earth formed a subtle unnatural basin, and within it was a faded, yet still distinct, symbol painted on the ground: the eternal swirl of Yin and Yang. It wasn’t a grand courtyard by any means- certainly not meant for show or ceremony. It felt more like a training ground. Koko guessed it had been designed with airbenders in mind rather than firebenders, given its modest size and careful placement far from the trees. Probably a smart move. Fewer things to set ablaze.

      Still, the thought made her snort. Now wouldn’t that be poetic, she mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Lin moves the island away from the city in a fit of rage and heartbreak, and then a decade or so later her lover accidentally turns the place into a bonfire. That’s some tabloid-worthy irony right there. 

     She stepped forward, leaving Jin and the guards at the edge of the clearing. They lingered back without needing to be told, their gazes following her as she made her way to the center of the symbol. The ground felt solid beneath her boots, worn from years of quiet use.

      There, in the middle, she stopped. The air was still around her. Heavy with the scent of earth and distant saltwater.

      With practiced ease, she began to shrug her arms out of her robe. If she was going to do this properly- and without incident- she couldn’t risk igniting her own sleeves. The robe stayed cinched at her waist, its top half slipping from her shoulders to drape around her hips, the fabric folding like lazy river water and the sleeves hanging limp, like overcooked noodles. Beneath, she wore a simple white linen tank top. It was plain, and breathable. It also didn’t do much to hide her figure- not that she particularly cared.

      She took a moment, grounding herself. Her feet slid into position, shoulder-width apart, then just a bit wider. Arms outstretched in opposite directions, fingers relaxed. The pose was deliberate- a breath held between two worlds. Then she began to move.

      Her motions flickered, staccato and sharp, each step and turn echoing the flicker of flame. Where earthbenders rooted themselves like mountain roots and metal benders moved with the weight of forged iron, firebenders danced. Not just with style, but with intent. Fire was never simply used- not if you were doing it right. Some said firebenders were the fire, but Koko didn’t quite agree. She preferred to think of it as a relationship- an intense, volatile friendship. You didn’t control fire. You partnered with it, like dancers locked in an endless, passionate waltz at a ball no one else could hear.

     Her movements weren’t perfect. They never had been, and probably never would be. She hadn’t learned proper form until the army, and even then, she'd always been a little too rough around the edges. Her style wasn’t refined, but it was honest. She didn’t glide so much as charge, each strike and turn a declaration more than a performance. There was grace there, buried under the muscle memory and instinct- but it was her own kind of grace. Brash, abrasive, but unmistakably hers.

      And as she moved, sweat beginning to bead at her brow, she felt it again- that familiar, humming connection. The heat in her chest. The rhythm in her breath. Not just the fire- her fire- ready to dance.

    And dance, she did. With a burning passion and a deep ache.

    Her movements shimmered with a strange duality- grief and fury interwoven so tightly that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Every motion of her body carried weight, like the last three days of exhaustion, heartbreak, and frustration were being siphoned out of her through her fingertips in surges of fire. Flames burst from her palms in vivid arcs, and she watched them with a dazed fascination- drawn not just to their brilliance but to their heat, their intensity. There was something oddly soothing about it all. The warmth pulsed through her fingers, making them tingle like delicate butterfly wings brushing across her skin.

     She stepped forward, her right foot gliding across the ground in a slow, deliberate motion. A ribbon of flame followed the path she carved into the earth, and another flickered out just behind it. Then, with a twist of her body, her fist shot forward, releasing a searing ball of fire that soared into the air and exploded with light. With each movement, her limbs felt lighter, as though the flames were pulling the weight from her bones. Her mind, once cluttered with racing thoughts, began to clear. The fire was burning it all away- her worries, her anger, her pain. It was temporary, she knew. But in that fleeting moment, it was enough.

     Firebending had always felt more like a dance to her than a battle tactic. The flow of it, the rhythm, the balance- it required grace, timing, presence. But despite its elegance, she never thought of fire itself as something sacred or extraordinary. To her, it had always been more of a tool than a miracle. Useful, certainly. Especially in combat during her deployment years. But in her daily life? Fire was more practical than powerful. She used it to warm herself during cold nights or to heat up her food in a pinch. That was about it.

     When she was younger and had no real home, her flames had been a lifeline. She’d relied on them constantly just to survive the cold. But that changed after she got her first place after her steady deployment- a real roof over her head, her own space she shared with Jin. She didn't need fire anymore just to stay warm. She had blankets. She had a bed. She had things that made her feel safe, comfortable. Luxuries, by her standards. Things that made serving worth it. 

     The glares, the shouting, the cold indifference- the harshness of training wore her down. But every time she stepped back into her small apartment after being away for months at a time and saw her bed, it reminded her why she endured it. When she watched Jin eat real food- food not pulled from dumpsters or hunted in alleys- it came back to her. When she ran a hot bath, it came back to her.

     She had a bed at that time. A real one. Not a bunk shared in training, not something temporary. That bed was hers- paid for, chosen, earned. It was the first she ever owned, and it meant something. It reminded her that, despite everything, she’d built a life. One no one could take from her.

     She remembered that first bed vividly. It wasn’t extravagant- just a full-sized frame made of some black metal, curved into simple, elegant designs at the headboard and footboard. Plain, yes, but it was hers. She didn’t care about ornate furnishings or expensive furniture. What mattered to her was the mattress- soft, made from something called memory foam that seemed to cradle her body like it had been molded just for her. And then there were the sheets. They were the most beautiful thing she owned at the time: a rich, deep red cotton, woven with golden silk threads that formed the image of a dragon mid-flight. They’d cost more than she ever thought she’d spend on fabric, but to her, they were worth every coin. They made her feel regal, safe, grounded.

     Along with the bed came other comforts. For the first time, she could afford warm, durable clothes. Especially boots- something she had once thought of as trivial until she wore a truly well-made pair. Thick leather that molded to her feet, soles that seemed to absorb the terrain, sturdy enough to last through harsh climates and relentless travel. They were more than just shoes- they were armor against the cold, the rain, the long marches. She hadn’t known how transformative a good pair of boots could be until she had them.

    All of it- the bed, the boots, the sheets- seemed so ordinary on the surface. But for her, they were symbols. Proof that she had clawed her way from survival to something close to stability. Proof that she could now take care of herself and Jin properly. And though the fire still lived within her, fierce and wild, she no longer needed it for everything. Only in moments like this- when emotions overflowed and her soul needed release- did she return to it. And in those brief moments, fire still danced with her.

     Koko found herself wondering, just for a moment, what kind of bed Lin had slept in as a child. It was a fleeting thought, quiet and almost unnoticeable beneath the sound of her own breath and the dying hiss of the flames around her. Lin's current bed wasn't extraordinary, at least from what Koko had seen- it was crafted from solid oak, sturdy and unyielding, much like the woman herself. The wood had been stained a deep, rich brown, almost black in the right light, and both the headboard and footboard rose tall, carved with the kind of simple craftsmanship that spoke of quiet wealth rather than extravagance. The mattress was a queen-sized one, topped with dark green silk sheets that shimmered faintly when caught by the light. The whole ensemble exuded restraint- understated, elegant, and clearly expensive without trying to be.

      It wasn't the kind of bed someone struggled to afford. It was the kind of bed that had always just been there. Comfortable. Durable. Inevitable. That’s what caught at Koko’s thoughts.

     Lin had probably known quality all her life. Even if she chose to live modestly now, even if she didn't flaunt her wealth, it was still there- woven into her choices, her surroundings, the way she moved through the world. The kind of security that Koko had spent most of her life chasing wasn't something Lin had to think about. It had always existed in her orbit. She likely had closets filled with shoes, coats made from thick wool or finely stitched leather, and the freedom to replace anything she owned not out of necessity, but because she wanted something new. Even if she didn’t indulge, the option was always there.

     Koko didn’t feel bitterness about it, not truly. There was no resentment in her heart- only curiosity. A quiet, persistent need to understand how the other half lived. What it felt like to grow up in a world where warmth, comfort, and stability weren’t fleeting luxuries but daily expectations. She didn’t envy Lin so much as she studied her, like an unfamiliar landscape she longed to explore.

     Lin probably had toys as a child- real ones. Ones made of wood or metal, painted with care, ones that didn’t splinter in your hands or fall apart after a few days. Ones that weren't just sticks and rocks you found on the street that you tied together with old rope or twine to make a "doll." Ones that weren't made of dirt and water to make a polished mud ball that her and Jin used to play catch with whenever he had the strength. Ones that weren't just leaves and stems woven together to make "clothes" and "accessories" to play "dress up."

     She always had food, too. Likely more than enough. Koko wouldn’t have been surprised if Lin had thrown some of it away without a second thought- fruit with a single bruise, bread a day past fresh, rice left half-eaten. Koko had lived through nights where she would have picked through a stranger’s garbage to find that food. If she'd grown up in the city, near a place like Lin's, she might have waited until nightfall just to scavenge from the bins outside. To taste what "enough" felt like.

      She imagined Lin being gifted the latest gadgets, the newest trinkets. When gramophones first appeared on the market, Koko would’ve bet good money Lin had one of the first models sitting somewhere. And more than just possessions- she had the resources. The kind of bending training others dreamed about. Structured lessons with the founder of metal bending herself. A proper education in both bending and everything else. She could’ve done anything with her life. She had the tools to shape her destiny on her own terms. There had never been a need to sacrifice herself to a cause, to give up her identity in service of survival. Lin chose her path. Koko had clawed her way into hers.

      Her flames flickered out, the last embers curling into the air like whispers. Her body came to a stop at the center of the courtyard, right where the faded Yin and Yang symbol stretched beneath her feet- its once-crisp edges now cracked and flaking with age. She stood in the quiet, unmoving, her breath stilling in her chest. Her gaze lowered to the worn lines beneath her boots, tracing the symbol that had once meant balance and wholeness. She felt far from either.

      She wanted to talk to Lin. Desperately. There were words still waiting between them, questions unanswered, truths left unspoken. So much they hadn't said. So much they hadn't even begun to unpack. It sat in her chest like a stone.

     Then, faintly, she heard something above- a low, gentle rumble that she recognized instantly. Her head snapped upward, eyes catching movement in the sky. An air bison glided overhead, massive and ghostly against the clouds. On its back were two small figures: Tenzin and Avatar Korra. Their silhouettes stood steady as the bison glided across the sky, heading toward the city, toward her.

They were going to see Lin. 

     It didn’t feel fair- not really. Not when there was so much she still wanted to say to her.

     She watched on as the bison grew smaller and smaller as it hurtled itself towards the city in the distant. It grew into a faint white smudge that resembled a cotton ball with a streak of dirt on it. She felt her heart had left in the saddle with them though her body remained on the ground, feet glued to Yin and Yang. 

     A hand landed on her shoulder, making her flinch for the second time that day. She turned quickly, only to find Jin standing there with a gentle smile. The two guards still stayed at the edge of the court yard, watching. 

“If you’re up for it, we could spar.”

Koko glanced around the courtyard.

“There aren’t any mats.”

“We don’t need them.”

    “Jin, you’re all skin and bones. If I threw you down hard enough, I might break your pelvis.”

     Jin raised his arms in mock frustration. “Fine. See if I ever try to cheer you up again.”

    Koko turned back toward the city, a wistful expression softening her face.

    “Dear Agni, it hasn’t even been a full day,” Jin sighed. “How are you going to survive this?”

     “It’s a mystery,” she murmured. “How someone like her managed to take hold of my heart so quickly. It sits in my chest like a stone, Jin- one she can move at will.”

“That doesn’t sound enjoyable.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it.”

      Jin stood beside her in silence, watching her profile as she gazed out at the city. He truly didn’t know what would become of her if this dragged on. They’d both been restless before, but now it was something deeper- agitation, maybe even desperation. More so for Koko than for him. She’d left something behind in the city. He’d brought his with him.

     He realized now he’d been wrong, as he watched her golden honey eyes glaze over- back when he’d claimed Koko had been harboring a decades-long crush on Lin, one sparked by old newspaper clippings she carefully trimmed or folded with obsessive care. No… it hadn’t been a crush. She’d been in love with her all along. Some way, somehow. Maybe she didn’t even realize it. Jin certainly didn’t understand it, and perhaps it wasn’t his place to. All he could do was be there, support her, and hope that someday she’d come to understand it herself. That they both did.

    He wasn’t sure if Koko would be able to stay on the island- not really. On the surface, she seemed calm enough, but he could sense the tension beneath, the restlessness that never quite left her eyes. He could see the way they bounced around their surroundings, the skyline, her peripheral- she was watching, alert and waiting. She may be able to keep her body still, but her eyes never stopped moving. Deep down, he was afraid she was already plotting her escape, that, with each sweep she made with her eyes, she was mapping out the island to make a run for it. He imagined her lying awake at night, thinking of every possible way to get off- by boat, by swimming, maybe even by bison if she could manage it. She would do anything to reach Lin, to feel like she was taking back control, to prepare for whatever came next. Maybe she thought waiting elsewhere would keep them safe. Maybe she didn’t believe this place could protect them.

     The thought made his chest tighten. He knew he might have to keep a closer eye on her than she realized, not out of suspicion, but because he cared- because letting her go might mean losing her for good. Still, he couldn’t blame her. He understood the pull of action over stillness, of doing something- anything- rather than waiting in fear. He did it far too often.

       To him, Koko was someone worth fighting for. She always had been. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to be the one who fought this time. He had tried before, and it hadn’t been enough, his health never allowed him to be. Part of him still carried that guilt. And yet, strangely, he felt a flicker of relief that someone else had stepped up, someone willing to stand by her in the way he couldn’t. That didn’t make it easier, but it made it bearable.

“Excuse me.”

      Startled, they both turned toward the soft, girlish voice. Just a few feet away, standing at the edge of the Yin and Yang circle, was the eldest of the airbending children. She was a lanky thing, all sharp angles and delicate limbs- hollow-boned like a bird. There was something endearing about her, a quiet, composed presence that reminded Koko of her father.

     “If you miss Aunt Lin,” the girl said with a gentle smile at the name, “we have a landline. You can call the station from here.”

     “You mean I don’t have to stuff a note in a bottle and float it out to sea or call for a bird to tie a note to its leg?”

      The girl grinned at her, amused but calm. Koko found herself smiling back. She might actually like this one.

      Of course, she had no idea whether the island really had a working landline. She’d just assumed- or maybe hoped. At the very least, they had to have a radio, something to reach the mainland. Before parting ways last night, she had asked Lin to call as soon as she could.

Would today be considered too soon?

Maybe. Probably.

      But this time, she didn’t think she cared too much about being too much. It was all she had to hold onto.

    She looked over at Jin, then at the girl, before tipping her head back to scan the sky. The sun was still climbing- an hour past breakfast, by the looks of it. Too early to call, probably. Tenzin had mentioned there was to be a major meeting this morning, one being held at the station, Lin will be tied up for hours. Koko let out a quiet sigh through her nose. Time. Something she still didn't know what to do with.

Same damn problem, different day.

      She turned back to the girl with a resigned expression. “Any idea what we could do to pass the time out here? Besides training and walking until our feet fall off?”

      The girl hesitated, clearly shy. She flicked a quick glance toward the nearby guards as if asking permission, then offered timidly, “We could… play airball tag?”

Jin arched a brow. “What’s airball tag?”

    Before the girl could explain, a rustle burst from the bushes nearby, and suddenly Meelo came charging out with wild energy, dragging his sister behind him like a windstorm in human form.

     “I’m so glad you asked!” he shouted, grinning like a maniac.

     Without missing a beat, he performed a dramatic spin-kick that summoned a swirling ball of air beneath his feet, launching himself into the air with surprising grace and even more surprising speed. For one glorious second, he hovered- arms spread like a triumphant rabbit eagle- and then shot straight toward them like a human cannonball.

     Jin’s eyes widened in panic, completely frozen. “Uhhh…”

      Koko didn’t hesitate. With a swift, practiced motion, she spun on her heel and released a sharp burst of fire from her feet, lifting herself off the ground and sailing a short distance through the air to avoid the oncoming child-sized missile.

Meelo whooshed past, laughing maniacally.

     Jin ducked just in time, shrieking as the boy flew by inches from his face.

    “Oh, come on!” he yelled, throwing his arms up. “This is so not fair!”

     Koko landed with a slight stumble and looked back at the chaos with a half-smile and a raised eyebrow. Apparently, this was how they passed time on Air Temple Island.

   The guards remained stationed at the edge of the courtyard, their eyes constantly sweeping the area as they kept a close watch on the group. Their posture was stiff, alert- every movement deliberate, every muscle coiled in anticipation. They believed they were ready for anything.

At least, they thought they were.

_____________